


Kept Silent

by argylemikewheeler



Series: Tumblr Re-posts [40]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Coming Out, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Steve is also here for a half second
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-12-18 11:30:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18248954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/argylemikewheeler/pseuds/argylemikewheeler
Summary: Prompt:  Mike's POV and how he's a nervous finding out he's bi and falling for Will and basically having him be the one who's pining after him and be awkward and adorable, but also dealing with his trash parents and internalized homophobia and doesn't want to ask for help because he feels like he should 'man up' when he just wants to be held and cry and feel loved and valued





	Kept Silent

For the longest time, Mike didn’t know the word for it. There  _had_ to be a word, right? There was a word for when boys like girls, a word– a  _bunch_ of words– for when boys like other boys, but what was the word for when boys like girls and boys? Mike was sure it wasn’t a real thing. His father has said that man was only meant for woman– anyone who wanted to argue with that was a lawless form of sin. Mike didn’t know what that meant either, but he knew that wasn’t the right word for what he was feeling. It wasn’t sin, was it?

Mike eventually found out the word from Steve Harrington– of all people. He said it with such nonchalance, barely looking up from the bike he was fixing for Mike.  _Some people just like both guys and girls. It’s not a big deal, Mike. Bi people aren’t crazy._

But it was a big deal. Mike was standing in the middle of two sides and he thought he had to pick a fate; be a regular person, or spit in God’s face. Or pick both and be better off dead to prepare for the eternal hell waiting for him. Steve was kind, and speaking from a place of more knowledge and sincerity than Mike was too oblivious to notice at the time, but he was wrong. Mike was going to swallow it up and hope that the twisting in his stomach would knot up into stillness.

Mike’s conscious suppression probably would have been easier to ignore if it wasn’t for his main reason for feeling anything in the first place  _constantly_ being over at his house. Since the start of the summer, Will and Jonathan were always over at the Wheelers’.  When the four of them were together, both Byers and both Wheelers, for dinner or just watching TV in the living room, Mike felt a twinging in his throat, like a bobbing sentence or an attempt to start crying plucking against Mike’s composure. Jonathan and Nancy were sweet together, holding hands and grinning at each other like a silent conversation was constantly passing between them. Mike wanted that. But in that situation, he had to be Jonathan, not a nancy.

Mike barely spoke when they were alone. He didn’t trust any sentence to be a straight sentence. He had to be conscious of his words and his actions. He wasn’t a sinful. He was a good person. He analyzed every part of himself and stripped the queerness right out of himself. He wore dark clothes all the time, he didn’t listen to music he didn’t see every other boy listening to, he started distancing himself from Eleven in order to give the crazy idea that he liked her– which they had for a while, but Mike had to pretend he hadn’t found his best friend a far better fit. He reviewed a sentence two times before speaking it aloud. No accidental admissions. Mike liked girls only.

* * *

 

“Mike, are you going to help me or just stare at it?” Will pushed a pile of the puzzle pieces towards Mike. They had found a ridiculous thousand piece puzzle and had decided they could finish it before the day was over and Mrs. Byers pulled up outside. They were making very little progress since Will was the only one actively trying to put the pieces together. Mike was just moving them around.

“Sorry. Distracted.”

“Just start pulling the edge pieces out of the pile.” Will said. “Are you okay?”

“Fine.” Mike nodded. He flipped over the pieces in front of him, noting the bright and vivid colors and emergence of floral print over the fragments. “Does it have to be flowers?”

“It’s a meadow. Yeah, it has to be.” Will laughed. “Would you prefer a forest of the same shade of green? No thank you.”

“I just wish it didn’t have to be so goddamn  _frilly_.”

“It’s just flowers, Mike.” Will said, slowly retracting from the puzzle. “What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing.”

“No. Not nothing. You barely talk to me anymore, and when you do, it’s to tell me that something we’re doing is too girly or feminine or frilly– I get it, Mike. I’m gay and I do girly things. Stop bringing it up.” Will brought his elbows down roughly on the table as he hunched over his pile, holding his forehead as he stared at the pieces. “I am who I am, Mike. Accept that.”

Mike did. Mike accepted Will for everything that he was and didn’t once genuinely think that he was too much of anything. He was his best friend and he liked boys. One fact did not affect the other. Mike hadn’t even noticed he was somehow insulting Will’s actions by pointing out what he himself shouldn’t have been doing. He just wanted to fix himself, not Will. Will was perfect– and it was kind of the problem.

Mike didn’t say anything; Comforting Will meant being emotional, opening himself up, and it could mean accidentally saying something he shouldn’t have.

“You know, I should probably just call my mom.” Will said, pushing his chair back. “I have chores to do or something I’m sure.”

“Oh. Okay.” Mike tried to mask the disappointment in his voice. Watching Will walk to the stairs was like watching the sun duck down under the horizon after a year long night. He didn’t want him to leave, but he knew there was nothing to do. Mike felt the warmth leave his fingers as Will marched up the basement steps. “I– sorry.” The door shut harshly.

The silence confronted Mike with enough force to knock the air out of him. He had been so focused on hurting himself, Mike didn’t notice he was hurting anyone else. It was probably better that people created distance and got away from him; Mike didn’t need any temptations to ask for help. He didn’t need any excuses to start spilling his guts. He’d die with everything knotted up nicely in the pit of his stomach. That’s what men did. They didn’t cry, complain, or even speak. Strong and silent. The protectors. The heroes.

Mike did miss Will though. All the time. Sure, he saw Will, but he missed being close with him. He missed just touching him– even just their shoulders pressing together on the couch. Something about it made Mike feel grounded and alive. People were reaching him, and not just the shell Mike presented to everyone. Someone was reaching in to touch the real person being hidden. Will knew he was still in there; he wasn’t being fooled.

But he _was_ being insulted.

Crying had become foreign to Mike in the past few months, so much so that when his eyes began to sting and nose began to burn, he thought something was wrong with him– something  _else_ wrong with him. He wiped his eyes with a rough hand, the heel of his palm pressing against his eyes and hoping to shove the tears back where they belonged. He tried to breath in evenly, but it was shaky and every part of him began to tremble, like he was going to tumble to pieces. His tears were hot and burned his face, the guilt and embarrassment of feeling them slide down his cheeks forcing a whimper of despair to come up his throat in a violent grunt. It was painful to cry. It meant he had failed.

“Mike?” Will was descending the stairs. “Mike, are you okay?”

Mike sniffled and sat up straight. “I’m fine.”

“Were you crying?” He asked.

“No.” He scoffed. “Of course not.”

“Mike, your eyes are puffy. And you sound upset. What’s wrong?” Will touched Mike’s chin, lifting it to face him. Mike felt like he was lifting his head up to face the sun finally. The touch was warm and comforting. His first stable breath seemed to come from the exhale of Will, feeling comforted by the boy’s wide eyes looking down at him. “Mike, talk to me.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not? Mike, what’s going on?”

“I’m not allowed to tell.” Mike knew once he admitted it, it would be true. It would be evidence that he was feeding into this phase he was going through. “I can’t.”

“You’re scaring me.” Will said. “Mike, what’s going on? Are you hurt– is someone hurting you? Are you hurting yourself?”

“What? No.” Mike shook his head. “It’s nothing like that. It’s stupid. It’s nothing.”

“Then why can’t you tell me?” Will pleaded, sitting back down at the table. “Mike, I’m your best friend you can tell me anything.” Mike couldn’t tell Will how twisted up he was inside. He couldn’t tell him how his butterflies migrated up from his feet, buckling his knees and jostling his stomach. He couldn’t tell Will he liked him. He liked girls  _only_. He wasn’t one of those people. He was a good person. He didn’t humor sin.

“It’s nothing.” Mike said again.

“Mike.” Will said sternly. “Please tell me.” He grabbed Mike’s hand and he felt every drop of sunshine rush into his veins. “Mike, please. I care about you. Why won’t you talk to me?”

“Dad said I can’t talk about this.” Mike said. “It’s better to just ignore it. It will go away if I just act like I’m not like this–”

Will leaned back in his chair. “ _Oh_ ,  _Mike_.” He sighed and fumbled for a sentence. “It’s not going to go away.” How did  _he_ know?

“It will.”

“It won’t. I  _know_ it won’t. I thought that too.” Will said, reaching for Mike’s hand again.

“I’m not gay.” Mike said defensively, pulling his hand away. “I like girls too.”

“Too?” Will echoed, looking at Mike with a still expression that relaxed in a smile. “Okay. That’s okay– that’s fine, actually. Whatever you are, Mike, we’ll all love you.”

Mike had never heard those words before. He had never considered those words being said. He didn’t think they  _existed_. He felt his eyes sting again as they welled up with tears. “Thank you, Will. I haven’t told anyone… And I– I’m scared.”

“You don’t have to be. It’s okay.” Will cooed. He wrapped his arms around Mike and pulled him in for a hug. “You’re more than okay. You’re perfect.”

Mike rested his head against Will’s shoulder and took a deep, stable breath in. He was protected. He had hope and support– even if it was just from one person. It was one more person to convince Mike he wasn’t making it up, that he wasn’t just passing through a phase. He was real. Everything he was feeling was real; the way his palms began to sweat and face involuntarily smile as he felt the warmth of Will’s rays drape over him.

“Hey, Will?” Mike sat up and wiped his nose with the back of his sleeve. He was smiling and it didn’t hurt his cheeks or make his stomach drop. It wasn’t forced.

“Yes, Mike?”

“I like girls and boys.”

“I know. And that’s fine.” Will nodded, smiling back.

“But, you know,” Mike reached over and grabbed Will’s hand again “there is  _one_ boy in particular that I really like.”

“Well,” Will said, taking in a shaky breath. “I only like boys. Only like  _one_ boy.”

Mike could feel himself blushing. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

“Your secret is safe with me.” Will laughed. He situated himself on the edge of his seat, pressing his lips together before leaning forward. He gently kissed Mike’s cheek before pulling away with a quick exhale. Mike felt his mouth open with an invisible bubble of laughter passing from his lips. “These lips are locked.”

**Author's Note:**

> [The Rebloggable Post!](https://argylemikewheeler.tumblr.com/post/171215271065/prompt-mikes-pov-and-how-hes-a-nervous-bean)


End file.
